Second Chances
by crazy-anonymous
Summary: "Year after year passed, and Shishio had simply learned to live with his mistakes. He choked back the regret one cup at a time, with mouthfuls of sake, gin, wine, anything." Taking place nearly 7 years after the events of HnR, Shishio and Suzume must face the residual feelings of what once was.


It was that first year that was the hardest. When he returned to his apartment that night after the hospital, he sat for a long while, unmoving, as the mistakes played on repeat in his head. Blunder turned to bitter regret as the cycle repeated itself endlessly in his minds' eye.

In a torrent of rage and raw emotion, Shishio bounded for that precious little box he'd kept tucked away in his closet. Ripping off the lid of the container and tossing it to the side, he grabbed that _stupid, ugly_ sushi tie. Shishio regarded it for a moment before balling it into his fist and heading towards the garbage can. Slamming it right on top of the trash, he spun around, back towards that heap of _useless shit_ , and ran his hands over his face. The tears that quietly slid down his cheeks felt like betrayal, and he could _swear_ he heard that _goddamn_ tie laughing at him-mocking him and his childish behavior.

Shishio stood still for a moment before groaning in frustration. This wasn't him; this display, this behavior and these feelings, it just wasn't right. He picked the tie back out of the garbage, his fingers playing at the edges of the hem. His lips pursed into a thin line, and his eyebrows furrowed. This tie, Suzume-it simply wasn't something he could give up just yet.

Making his way back into his room, Shishio delicately placed the tie back into the box. Running his thumb along the wrapping, he gave it one last look before packing it away into the furthest corners of his closet. Truthfully, he hoped that one day he might even forget it was there.

But that day would never come.

The following five years really weren't that much better. Time heals all wounds? _No,_ Shishio scoffed at the thought. Time had done nothing to ease the pain that he had awoken to every morning of every day since she'd left.

Alcohol, though? That was fitting company. That was _comforting_ company. It wasn't time that lulled him to sleep night after night, and it wasn't time that blurred his thoughts and the faces of a love lost. No. Liquor had done more for him than time ever would or could.

Year after year passed, and Shishio had simply learned to live with his mistakes. He choked back the regret one cup at a time, with mouthfuls of sake, gin, wine, _anything_.

At night he would lay there with his face pressed against his pillow, mind reeling, stomach churning. Her laughter rang in his ears as it so often does. It's a delusion, he knows, despite his drunken stupor. He closed his eyes in hopes that he doesn't ruin the moment with these sobering thoughts.

At first, liquor had been his coping mechanism. It put distance between himself and the thoughts of her-made it easier to forget. But his body and mind grew resilient.

Slowly, he started to realize that drinking just didn't have the same effect it used to. The more he drank, the more vivid she became and soon enough he didn't _want_ to forget anymore. And now this, _this_ was his new coping mechanism. He would squeeze his eyes shut just to listen to her laugh, to feel the bed shift under her weight, and if he was lucky, hear her ever so lightly call out his name.

He couldn't quite tell if these moments were glimpses of Heaven or Hell, but he just _didn't care_. He was content with this beautifully haunting punishment.

Until he saw her again in the flesh.

Yukichi's wedding was perfect. It was everything he'd wanted for his best friend-good food, hearty laughter, inspirational love, and it was _Suzume_. _Always Suzume._ As happy as he was for his friend, he couldn't shake the ache in his chest at the sight of her. It coiled around his heart, cold and unforgiving. A brutal reminder of again, what he'd lost- _no_. What he'd _given up_.

He gave a courteous smile and laughed with the rest of them, pained though it was. A wedding was no place for his own selfish, self-loathing thoughts.

That night was worse than most-though it would have been far worse without his newly acquainted neighbor, Samejima, to take pity on him.

This strange man and his seemingly tragic backstory had piqued her interest for a reason she simply couldn't place. Overtime, the two grew to be friends, accompanying each other here and there when the days were loneliest. They did their best at keeping each other out of trouble-or rather, Samejima did her best keeping _him_ out of trouble. While he was typically a fun-loving, care-free man, Shishio wasn't always the easiest company when he got himself completely wasted. He happened to hide the worst parts of himself behind a mask of smiles and laughter, that is, until he drank. _'Chun-Chun'_ , was all he'd talk about on those nights. Samejima couldn't help but listen and wonder what she must have been like to have a man so wrapped up by her even after all these years.

Then, one afternoon Shishio had called her up. He asked if she would help him out at his friend, Yukichi's, restaurant for a large night-time festival. Though she'd never met Yukichi, she'd heard plenty about him, enough to know that there was a connection between him and that Chun-Chun girl. Interested by this, Samejima accepted. She had hoped to make further progress with Shishio's story of long, lost love.

It was half past four when Samejima heard a rap on her door, and made her way to answer it. There she was met by her raven-haired neighbor.

"Heeey, don't look so enthusiastic there, someone might think you actually _want_ to help out," He said, one eyebrow raised, and a grin tugging at his mouth.

"Well," Samejima began, tapping at her watch, "I _do_ have other things I could be doing..." She glanced up at him through her bangs, her dry tone of voice not going unnoticed.

"Ah, Samejima-san, I kid, I kid!" Shishio laughed, his hands motioning as if to wave away the comment. His response elicited a thin-lipped smile from her as she shut the door.

"Let's hope tonight runs smoothly," He spoke while making for the stairs. Stretching his arms out over his head, he began again, "I'm getting too old for eventful nights."

-  
A/N: Whew, this is my first fic in a very, _very_ long time. Even after all this time, Shishio just makes me feel so strongly as a character. He's flawed, and messy, and a _little_ fucked up, but that's what I love about him. He's human and relate-able, and he honestly deserves so much more than what was given to him at the end of HnR, which is exactly why I started writing this. My dates and time frames may be a little off here, but I went off memory.

In any case, let me know what you guys think. I appreciate any feedback!


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